LADY DARLING'S _House_.
_Enter_ SIR H. WILDAIR _with a Letter_.
_Sir H._ Like light and heat, incorporate we lay;
We bless'd the night, and curs'd the coming day.
Well, if this paper kite flies sure, I'm secure of my game----Humph!--the
prettiest _bourdel_ I have seen; a very stately genteel one----
FOOTMEN _cross the Stage_.
Heyday! equipage too!----'Sdeath, I'm afraid I've mistaken the house!
_Enter_ LADY DARLING.
No, this must be the bawd, by her dignity.
_Lady D._ Your business, pray, sir?
_Sir H._ Pleasure, madam.
_Lady D._ Then, sir, you have no business here.
_Sir H._ This letter, madam, will inform you farther. Mr. Vizard sent
it, with his humble service to your ladyship.
_Lady D._ How does my cousin, sir?
_Sir H._ Ay, her cousin, too! that's right procuress again. [_Aside._
_Lady D._ [Reads.] _Madam----Earnest inclination to serve----Sir
Harry----Madam----court my cousin----Gentleman----fortune_----
_Your ladyships most humble servant_, VIZARD.
Sir, your fortune and quality are sufficient to recommend you any where;
but what goes farther with me is the recommendation of so sober and
pious a young gentleman as my cousin Vizard.
_Sir H._ A right sanctified bawd o' my word! [_Aside._
_Lady D._ Sir Harry, your conversation with Mr. Vizard argues you a
gentleman, free from the loose and vicious carriage of the town. I shall
therefore call my daughter. [_Exit._
_Sir H._ Now go thy way for an illustrious bawd of Babylon:--she dresses
up a sin so religiously, that the devil would hardly know it of his
making.
_Enter_ LADY DARLING _with_ ANGELICA.
_Lady D._ Pray, daughter, use him civilly; such matches don't offer
every day. [_Exit_ LADY DARL.
_Sir H._ Oh, all ye powers of love! an angel!--'Sdeath, what money have
I got in my pocket? I can't offer her less than twenty guineas----and,
by Jupiter, she's worth a hundred.
_Ang._ 'Tis he! the very same! and his person as agreeable as his
character of good humour.----Pray Heaven his silence proceed from
respect!
_Sir H._ How innocent she looks! How would that modesty adorn virtue,
when it makes even vice look so charming!----By Heaven, there's such a
commanding innocence in her looks, that I dare not ask the question!
_Ang._ Now, all the charms of real love and feigned indifference assist
me to engage his heart; for mine is lost already.
_Sir H._ Madam--I--I----Zouns, I cannot speak to her!--Oh, hypocrisy!
hypocrisy! what a charming sin art thou!
_Ang._ He is caught; now to secure my conquest--I thought, sir, you had
business to communicate.
_Sir H._ Business to communicate! How nicely she words it!----Yes,
madam, I have a little business to communicate. Don't you love
singing-birds, madam?
_Ang._ That's an odd question for a lover--Yes, sir.
_Sir H._ Why, then, madam, here's a nest of the prettiest goldfinches
that ever chirp'd in a cage; twenty young ones, I assure you, madam.
_Ang._ Twenty young ones! What then, sir?
_Sir H._ Why then, madam, there are----twenty young ones----'Slife, I
think twenty is pretty fair.
_Ang._ He's mad, sure!----Sir Harry, when you have learned more wit and
manners, you shall be welcome here again. [_Exit._
_Sir H._ Wit and manners! 'Egad, now, I conceive there is a great deal
of wit and manners in twenty guineas--I'm sure 'tis all the wit and
manners I have about me at present. What shall I do?
_Enter_ CLINCHER JUNIOR _and_ DICKY.
What the devil's here? Another cousin, I warrant ye!--Harkye, sir, can
you lend me ten or a dozen guineas instantly? I'll pay you fifteen for
them in three hours, upon my honour.
_Clinch. jun._ These London sparks are plaguy impudent! This fellow, by
his assurance, can be no less than a courtier.
_Dicky._ He's rather a courtier by his borrowing.
_Clinch. jun._ 'Faith, sir, I han't above five guineas about me.
_Sir H._ What business have you here then, sir?--For, to my knowledge,
twenty won't be sufficient.
_Clinch. jun._ Sufficient! for what, sir?
_Sir H._ What, sir! Why, for that, sir; what the devil should it be,
sir? I know your business, notwithstanding all your gravity, sir.
_Clinch. jun._ My business! Why, my cousin lives here.
_Sir H._ I know your cousin does live here, and Vizard's cousin, and
every body's cousin----Harkye, sir, I shall return immediately; and if
you offer to touch her till I come back, I shall cut your throat,
rascal. [_Exit._
_Clinch. jun._ Why, the man's mad, sure!
_Dicky._ Mad, sir! Ay----Why, he's a beau.
_Clinch. jun._ A beau! What's that? Are all madmen
beaux?
_Dicky._ No, sir; but most beaux are madmen.--But now for your cousin.
Remember your three scrapes, a kiss, and your humble servant. [_Exeunt._